


Glasses

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Look, no one told you - warned you – about how good Dean Winchester looks in glasses. The worst part? He totally knows what he’s doing.





	Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is walking slowly next to you, eyes scanning your surroundings, and he’s clearly trying not to smile. You kind of hate him. 

Kind of.

The thing is – okay, you’re not dumb. Dean Winchester might be in his late thirties, but he’s _hot_ , okay. He knows it, too. How could he not? People are always swooning over him and you’ll be damned if you’re going to be one of them. 

He’s wearing glasses today. You know it’s for a job, but still. It’s been hard for you to take your eyes off him since he put them on. You’re pretty sure he’s noticed, if the self-assured swagger in his step is anything to go by.

It’s a good change from his mood earlier - when you found out it was a hell hound you were after, his mood shifted rapidly. You’ve been hesitant to even start some small talk, afraid that he’d bite your head off.

He seems a little happier now, though, and you feel good that it’s because of you, even if it is embarrassing. How were you supposed to know what he was going to look like when he came out of the bathroom at the bunker this morning?

“Really,” he says quietly to you, his voice amused, “On any other day I’d appreciate you ogling me. Hell, I’d even encourage it. Not really the time though, when we’ve got a hell hound on the loose.”

You feel your cheeks flood with heat. “You _wish_.” You snap back at him.

“You want a list of what I wish for, sweetheart?” He asks, peering at you over the rims of his glasses. You want to punch him, or kiss him. You can’t tell which.

Behind the lenses, his eyes seem greener than usual, and they’re sparkling as he smirks at you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel weak in the knees. 

“I don’t need a list, Dean.” You tell him, going for teasing, flirty even– it comes out a lot more breathless than you intend.

He stops walking and turns to you, his eyes glimmering. “Is that right?” He takes a few steps closer to you until the tips of his boots are touching yours. “You think you know?”

“Dean–”

“You wanna know what I think?” His voice is low, scratchy, and it sends a shiver up your spine. “I think you want me.” His hand finds your hip, tugging you closer. You inhale sharply, watching as his eyes darken behind the lenses of the glasses perched on his nose. “I think you want me and you don’t really know what do about that.”

“And how do you know that?” You ask, proud that your voice doesn’t shake.

He grins at you, wolfishly. “Because, sweetheart, if you’re lookin’ at me anywhere close to the way I look at you when I don’t think you’ll notice, then I know exactly what you’re thinking.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a minute, both waiting for the other one to make a move, and when it happens, you can’t even tell who moves first. Dean’s hands come up to frame your face, and you crash your lips against his in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and makes him let out a low hum against your mouth.

One of his hands drops from your face to circle your waist, pulling you in tight against him so you’re lifted up on your toes. He groans when your arms go around his neck, pressing your chest against him. 

“It’s the glasses.” You tell him when he breaks away to drag hot, wet kisses down your jaw and neck. “You look really good in glasses.” 

He chuckles. “You only want me when I have glasses on?”

You roll your eyes, but let a moan escape you when his lips suck gently on your pulse point. “Shut up. You know I–”

“You want me all the time like I want you?” He asks, his voice like gravel. 

“Jesus, Dean.” 

He kisses you again, deep and filthy, like he’s afraid he’s never going to get another chance. He kisses you like he wants to make sure you’re going to remember it. As if you could ever forget.

“I can wear these every day, if you want.” He says cheekily after a few minutes, grinning at you as you push his jacket off his shoulders. 

“God. You’re insufferable.”

“For the record,” he whispers in your ear as he pushes you backwards until your back hits a tree, “I’ve wanted to do this with you practically since the minute I set eyes on you.” 

You gasp as he trails kisses along your collarbones, his hands sliding underneath your shirt and camisole. You have too many layers on, you think distantly. 

“Wanted to get my mouth and hands on you forever but never really had the guts to do it. Not until I started noticing all those looks you kept throwing my way.”

Jesus, but he can _talk_. You never knew that hearing out loud what someone thought about you sexually was a thing for you, but you suppose it’s a combination of things. His voice, the look in his eyes, the glasses, _Dean_. 

His fingers deftly unpop the button of your jeans, and you whimper when his fingers rub the edge of your panties. “Tell me to stop and I will.” His eyes are gentle, but still blazing when he looks at you.

“Don’t stop.” You whisper, and he smiles.

“We don’t have a lot of time and honestly this _might_ be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done–” he winces at your offended look. “There’s a hell hound out here, babe.” 

“We _think_.” 

He rolls his eyes, fond. “As I was _saying…_ we don’t have a lot of time. But I want to watch your face when you come for me.” 

You groan then, right at the same moment as his fingers find their way into your panties, softly stroking at the soft wetness gathered there. 

“ _Baby_.” He moans. “Fuck.”

His fingers rub over your clit with just enough pressure to send your hips jolting upwards, and he growls. “So much I wanna do to you. Later.” He doesn’t waste any more time – he gets first one finger into you, and then a second, the pressure of him filling you up causing your eyes to roll back as you see stars. It’s been so long since anyone has done this for you.

He begins to thrust after he feels you adjust to his fingers and he urges you on with whispered filthy words and praise. “You feel so good, sweetheart. Can’t wait to get inside you.” 

“Dean, please–” You beg, still having a hard time wrapping your mind around the fact that this is happening.

“Later, I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to find every single place on your body that makes you let out more of those noises, and then I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Good _lord_ –” You gasp, and then that’s it, you’re coming. It’s faster than you expected, but you’ve been dealing with these feelings for Dean for _months_.

“That’s it, sweetheart. God, you look so good. You feel so good.” 

“Let me–” You choke out, “Let me help you, Dean, I–”

“No, no, we don’t have time.” He soothes. “Later. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a few more hours.”

He helps you get yourself sorted and presses a last lingering kiss to first your lips and then your temple, and you reach up to straighten out his glasses. 

“Stay sharp.” He tells you, and then, smiling, “Don’t get too distracted by how great I look and how good I can make you feel.”

“I knew you were an asshole.” You say, but you’re laughing, and so is he. 

You wonder how you can get back at him later and start coming up with a few ideas. Maybe you’ll even put on those glasses yourself and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Now _that’s_ an idea.


End file.
